Cerulean Cape I made you my temple, my mural, my sky

For several days, a storm howled along the coastline, forcing Wylla and Stag to take shelter in the cliffs a little further inland. She knew enough about the Pacific coast to know that storms like this weren't terribly common, and the longer it raged, the more worried she became. They couldn't hunt in those conditions.

When the blizzard lulled, she ranged out from where they'd hunkered down. Her stomach was pinched with hunger, so the first thing she did was head for the nearby cove, hopeful that she might find something in a tidepool, but when she arrived at the beach, it was to find the entirety of it covered in snow right up to the ocean's edge, with little promise of wandering crabs or other fare. Wylla's face, already drawn from hungry travel and sorrow, visibly fell further.